


At The Edge of The Bridge

by cloudybay



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudybay/pseuds/cloudybay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The river The Light was famous for its dangerous waters. To cross it, there was a bridge. A metallic bridge of 100 feet tall at least, due to the boats that navigate those waters. There were other bridges to cross it, but the closest one was about a mile away and wasn’t as tall as this one.</p>
<p>At midnight The Town of The River is quite. No boats sailing disturbing the sounds of nature, and the night clubs are too far to hear the music, even when it’s in its maximum volume.</p>
<p>The figure of a man, not older than 21, can be devised leaning on the railing of the bridge just if you look for it. But no one’s there to look, so no one sees. Some minutes pass and the silhouette of another person appears; the silhouette calmly climbs up the stairs that lead to the top of the bridge, and just when it has almost reached the man leaning on the railing it seems to notice his presence. It takes a few minutes for the man to acknowledge he’s got company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Edge of The Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic (ever), so please be nice!  
> But I apreciate constructive comments n.n ok? ok. Oh, and, I hadn't noticed at first, but I subconsciously based this work in Never Coming Home by caseandcapitals ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/683706/chapters/1254549 ), so uhm, ok. anyway, enjoy n.n

The river The Light was famous for its dangerous waters. To cross it, there was a bridge. A metallic bridge of 100 feet tall at least, due to the boats that navigate those waters. There were other bridges to cross it, but the closest one was about a mile away and wasn’t as tall as this one.

At midnight The Town of The River (as it’s known, being its origins because of that one course of water) is quiet. No boats sailing disturbing the sounds of nature, and the night clubs are too far to hear the music, even when it’s in its maximum volume.

The figure of a man, not older than 21, can be devised leaning on the railing of the bridge just if you look for it. But no one’s there to look, so no one sees. Some minutes pass and the silhouette of another person appears; the silhouette calmly climbs up the stairs that lead to the top of the bridge, and just when it has almost reached the man leaning on the railing, it seems to notice his presence. It takes a few minutes for the man to acknowledge he’s got company. He silently studies the person next to him, now imitating his position: he’s a kid, must be about 17 years old, not more; he looks sad, staring almost absentmindedly the running of water bellow them. The man wonders if the kid is planning on taking his own life. After all, almost all of the suicides in the town had taken place on that bridge. He felt surprised when a rush of worry ran through his body thinking that boy was too young, and hoped he was wrong with his assumption… then he remembered he wasn’t the right person to judge that kind of decision.

“I came here to remember why I must keep living” answered the boy as if he could hear his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” the man finds himself asking, since when did he care? Oh, whatever, anyway it’d all be over soon.

“Not much really, actually I’m supposed to meet someone here who’ll make me remember. Not as if I had much of a choice…” he chuckled at this, maybe it was self-pity “But I’m not sure if that’s courage to keep on living, or fear of pain and death… it’s kinda hard to see the difference these days”.

“Well, that’s true, but not a great reason to kill your-self” answers the man as he lights a cigarette.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here to remind myself why _I must keep living_ and not to _die_ …” says the boy as he turns to face the man “So why are _you_ here then?”

The man bit a smile back; this kid wasn’t stupid “Do I have to assume that you already guessed my intentions?”

A nod and a smirk from the kid is the answer. This kid smiled way too much to be as depressed as he said he was.

“My little brother dyed and I couldn’t cry” he answers anyway, and as he only gets a glare, the man decides to continue “It has been four years, six months and three days since the last time I cried; I can’t even remember the reason why, just know it was something silly, but I haven’t been able to drop a single tear since then. I went to the doctor, but they said it was nothing physical, so I went to see some psychiatrists, guess what they said; my sub conscience was just waiting for the right time to cry. But my brother was my best friend, the only one who knew what to say to keep me going, and he was murdered. I don’t know if you can understand how empty I feel, but the worst part is that even for my brother’s death, only a week ago, I couldn’t cry.”

The boy just nods again and they remain in silence for a while until he breaks it.

“I want to study art, that’s another reason to don’t jump. Even though dad wants me to keep going with the family business” at this both of them giggle, it sounded silly and so The Godfather like.

“And what’s the family business?” the man can’t help himself to ask.

The boy remains thoughtful for a while, as if thinking how to explain it. Finally he says “we take care of people, like you or me, which is kind of ironic... but we aren’t psychologists.”

The man just nods and another silence takes place. This time the man breaks it.

“I’m studying art… or was” he half smiles as he takes a final drag of the cigarette and lets it fall into the water before continuing “but it isn’t as fun as I thought”.

“And why didn’t you just try something else?”

“Painting is the only thing I truly love; I wouldn’t be able to do anything else.”

“Pity then, the world is going to lose an awesome artist”

“How do you know if I’m even good?”

“A good artist isn’t the one who’s good with the brush or the pencil, a good artist is the one who does what they do with true passion, and every single trace with their pencil is done just because for the love of it; and if you can only study art because you love it too much to even think about something else, you are a great artist”.

Wow “…thanks”.

The boy smiles, and then looks at the hour in his phone: 01:00 am.

“I should be going, thanks for the chat. You should do it before someone tries to stop you… if you still want to do it anyway.”

“Yeah, no, well thanks for the chat, but you’re right, I should do it now before somebody else comes” answers the man as he takes his wallet, his phone, the lighter and the pack of cigarettes placing them on the floor. Suddenly he hesitates; he takes the pack of cigarettes and the lighter and hands them to the teenager.

The kid nods and takes them. “Did you leave a note?” he asks as he lights a smoke he placed between his lips.

“No, but they’ll know why I’m doing this”.

“Alright” he takes a drag of the cigarette and starts walking away.

“Hey, what’s your name?” calls the man before he starts climbing the railing.

“Frank, and yours?”

“Gerard… could you tell me something?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Will I see my brother?”

The teenager smiles “Yeah”. He turns and walks away.

At the hour 01:15 of that same night, from the top of the tallest bridge of the river The Light, a silhouette of a man in the air is drawn in the night as the only sound that disturbs the calm of The Town of The River is the splash of something falling into the water. Some minutes later the silence is restored, and the figures of Frank and Gerard walking away can be devised.


End file.
